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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27975260">Carry</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Improving_The_Truth/pseuds/Improving_The_Truth'>Improving_The_Truth</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Newsies (1992)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, M/M, could be read as platonic or romantic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 16:13:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,534</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27975260</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Improving_The_Truth/pseuds/Improving_The_Truth</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“You know what your problem is, Mouth?” Jack asked. It was a rhetorical question, but David answered anyway, wondering how he managed to get swept into a conversation about wolf dog houses when that hadn't been what he asked about at all. </p>
<p>“What's my problem, Jack?”</p>
<p>“You take things too serious. If you do that for every little thing that happens under the sun, you won't have nothing left ‘cept a bunch of lawyers.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>David Jacobs &amp; Jack Kelly, David Jacobs/Jack Kelly</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Carry</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jack had been making a weird face all morning, wincing every now and again as though he was in some sort of pain, but David couldn't see anything physically wrong with him. It was a nice day, there wasn't much to hide under a half-buttoned shirt that Jack wouldn't have been bragging about at the gates earlier.</p>
<p>David conceded it was very irrational that Jack all but outright refused to admit anything was, or could ever be wrong with him. A knife could be sticking out of his chest and he'd say it was nothing, and he'd be good as new soon. When he was faced with the possibility that he wasn't completely invincible, he hiked up his cowboy hat and turned away from anyone who posed the unwanted prospect. That person was almost always David, and he was getting really sick of it.</p>
<p>They were eating on the curb of a side street, sat under the beguiling shade of a canary-striped awning as people walked by in the distance. Figures appeared and vanished between the sliver of the street they could see from where they were sitting. </p>
<p>“Hey,” David piped up, “aren’t you hungry?”</p>
<p>Jack looked at David, then down at his sandwich, shocked it was still there. “Not really.”</p>
<p>David narrowed his eyes, trying for skeptical. Jack noticed probably, because he averted his gaze again and leaned forward, wrapping his sandwich up and setting it on top of his stack. </p>
<p>“That’s not like you,” David continued, feigning nescience. “You usually scarf down your food like a rabid dog.”</p>
<p>Jack made a noise of mockery at the unflattering comparison, raking his fingers through his hair and leaning back against the bricks. He shifted a lot before he sat even remotely still. </p>
<p>“I'm sure you'd know all about that.”</p>
<p>“What's that supposed to mean?”</p>
<p>“Just that you ain't never seen a rabid dog in your life.”</p>
<p>“I've seen you, and that's enough.”</p>
<p>Jack punched his arm lightheartedly. “Whatever you say, Davey.”</p>
<p>David sorely rubbed his arm where Jack jabbed him. “Seriously, Jack. Are you alright?”</p>
<p>Jack was looking at him now, squinting as the rising line of daylight was creeping up on them. </p>
<p>“Why wouldn't I be?”</p>
<p>“I don't know,” David confessed, proceeding to explain exactly how he did know. “You’ve been acting strange all morning. Like… You stubbed your toe or something.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, that's it. On the banister runnin’ down the stairs this morning.”</p>
<p>“I told you not to run down any flight of stairs for any reason, because you're more susceptible to slipping and busting your head open at the bottom than you would be if you walked down them like a normal person.”</p>
<p>“Well, what if somebody was chasing me, huh? Like Snyder, or the Delanceys.”</p>
<p>“Snyder’s in jail. And why would the Delanceys chase you indoors? If they're as clueless as you say they are, they wouldn't be able to catch you in such an unfamiliar setting whether you ran down the stairs or not.”</p>
<p>Jack snorted, amiably slinging an arm around David's shoulders. “When’d I tell you they sleep outside?”</p>
<p>David blinked, before realizing what Jack meant. It was a stupid joke, but a smile fought its way onto his lips despite himself. </p>
<p>“I seen it for myself, you know. There's a pair of doghouses they get chained up to every night.”</p>
<p>“A doghouse wouldn't be big enough to fit a whole person inside of it.”</p>
<p>“They was wolf doghouses.”</p>
<p>“Those don't…” David fell silent as Jack poked his cheek, grinning before taking away his arm and sitting back in place beside him. David rubbed the spot Jack touched like it would be sore too.</p>
<p>“You know what your problem is, Mouth?” Jack asked. It was a rhetorical question, but David answered anyway, wondering how he managed to get swept into a conversation about wolf dog houses when that hadn't been what he asked about at all. </p>
<p>“What's my problem, Jack?”</p>
<p>“You take things too serious. If you do that for every little thing that happens under the sun, you won't have nothing left ‘cept a bunch of lawyers.”</p>
<p>David made a face, suddenly not feeling like eating at all. “You know what your problem is?”</p>
<p>“I don't got any problems.”</p>
<p>“You think you can get away with saying anything you want just because you smile when you say it.”</p>
<p>Jack stretched his arms above his head, wincing and slowly bringing them back down. David considered rolling up one of his papers and whacking him like one would whack a misbehaved terrier, but to his credit, he successfully refrained. </p>
<p>“You saying you like my smile?” Jack asked. </p>
<p>David inhaled sharply. “No. I mean, it's not a bad smile, it's just that…” David blinked, incredulous. This time he did whack Jack, but only on the shoulder with the back of his hand. “Look! You just did it again.”</p>
<p>Jack looked genuinely confused. There was no way he didn't know what David was talking about. That would have to be just about impossible… Wouldn't it? “What’d I do?”</p>
<p>“You--you just--” David had to take a moment to gather his thoughts, frustration increasing with every second further from the start of the conversation. “You’re good at what you do, is all.”</p>
<p>“Sellin’ papes?”</p>
<p>Jack reached for his pocket where he kept a crushed pack of cigarettes. David lightly slapped his hand away. </p>
<p>David looked him right in the eyes. “Improving the truth.”</p>
<p>Jack smiled, and then it fell. He took a moment before responding. “It's like this, Davey. There's the stuff folks don't wanna hear about, and the stuff they do. Simple as that. Wouldn't you want good news every day of the week?”</p>
<p>David was growing more and more impatient. “I’m not talking about selling papes.”</p>
<p>“Neither am I.”</p>
<p>They went quiet after that. There wasn't much point in sitting around if they weren't going to eat anything, so Jack got up and, against his better judgement telling him that maybe he should leave David alone until he simmered down, he held out his hand to help him up. And against David's better judgement, he took it. </p>
<p>He guessed there wasn't any real reason to be mad at Jack then. The whole reason they'd started arguing was because Jack was neglecting himself again, and David despised when he did that. Acting like he was all alone in the world and that nobody would care whether he lived or died, so it was okay if he was reckless, because the only person his behavior affected was himself. David thought it was incredibly selfish. </p>
<p>David didn't understand why Jack couldn't just tell him what was bothering him. It was like he thought being honest with David for one second would send all of New York careening into the Atlantic. </p>
<p>Still bristling, David stepped in front of Jack when he went to pick up his stack. </p>
<p>“I want to know,” David said, “why you won't tell me what's bothering you.” </p>
<p>Jack seemed taken aback. If David were anything but a pacifist, he would be inclined to punch that wide-eyed vulnerable look right off of Jack's face. </p>
<p>Jack opened his mouth to reply, but David held up a finger. </p>
<p>“I'm not going to believe you if you say nothing's wrong.”</p>
<p>David could practically hear the cogs turning. Jack looked around, scraping his soles over the concrete, like he was considering bolting, never to speak to David again if he could help it.</p>
<p>“My stomach hurts, alright?” Jack admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. That didn't answer David's much broader question, but it was something. </p>
<p>David softened, finding it difficult to feel as bad as he wanted to after their biting discussion. “Really? Is that all?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, that's all.” Jack stared pointedly until David stepped out of the way. </p>
<p>David felt unequivocally vexed, sympathetic, and confused at the same time. Jack was his best friend no matter how difficult it was to be around him without exploding sometimes, and even when he acted like he did, there was always this little nagging sensation at the back of David's mind that reminded him of the way Jack was when they first met, and that this was merely a clearer image of that boy. Not nearly transparent enough for it not to beg questions, but they were getting there. </p>
<p>It was a silly thing to refuse to talk about, anyway. David wondered what Jack expected him to say if he'd just been upfront the first time David asked. </p>
<p>“Let me carry some of your papes for you,” David offered.</p>
<p>Jack shook his head. “I got it, Dave.”</p>
<p>“You said your stomach hurts.”</p>
<p>“It does.”</p>
<p>“Do you always have to be so stubborn?”</p>
<p>“I ever not been stubborn?”</p>
<p>David heaved a sigh. “No.” </p>
<p>“It ain't a big deal, anyway. Don't worry about it.”</p>
<p>David did worry about it. Jack was being too hopeful if he thought for a second that he wouldn't worry about it. Defeated, David took his own stack and followed Jack back into the street and the sunlight. </p>
<p>It was only halfway to their next spot that Jack silently counted what he had left, split it in two, and handed half off to David.</p>
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